


Security Breach

by Isis



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Attempted Rape, Consent Issues, F/M, Hate Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-01
Updated: 2006-03-01
Packaged: 2017-11-28 08:37:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/672419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isis/pseuds/Isis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sergeant Bates corners her, Teyla turns the tables.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Security Breach

**Author's Note:**

> I opted against labeling this non-con, but do note the tags. Thanks to Libitina for beta, and for the title.
> 
> You can also download an audiofile (mp3) of me reading this story: [Security Breach audio version](http://hieroglyfics.net/audio/securitybreach.mp3) (11.5MB, about 12 minutes long, please rightclick and save).

Teyla saw his shadow, lurking around the corner, before she saw him. But his shadow had been following her a lot, lately, and she knew it was Bates even before she turned to confront him. Surprise flickered in his eyes for an instant; then his face returned to the usual bland, hostile mask he always wore in her presence. 

"Sergeant Bates," she said. "It seems that you are everywhere I turn." 

He jerked his chin a fraction. "Someone has to keep an eye on you." 

"Surely you cannot still believe that I am a traitor." 

"I believe what I see," he said, his lips tight. His nose wrinkled as though her odor offended him. "And what I see is that you're awfully close to the military commander of this base, considering you're an alien." 

"I am as devoted to the survival of this city as -" 

"Are you fucking him?" 

The bold statement shocked her, and her eyes widened. "What are you saying?" 

"You heard me," he said, leaning towards her. Leering at her. She could smell alcohol on his breath; instinctively she shrank away, but he only moved closer. "Are you fucking Sheppard? Is that why he lets you run around with a weapon?" 

"That is none of your business!" 

He shook his head and smiled unpleasantly. "That's a security breach." 

"You are drunk." She frowned at him and began to move away, but before she'd taken a step, he pinned one of her hands against the corridor wall, lightning-quick. A bolt of fury coursed through her, and she fought for control of her own instincts; if he had been some stranger on a trading mission - if she had been anywhere but in Atlantis - she would have kicked her assailant in the genitals or sunk her teeth into his arm. But Sergeant Bates was an important man here, and she would not give in to her anger. "Release me!" she hissed. 

He bent close to her, close enough that she could feel the heat from his body, smell the faint tang of sweat under the aroma of whatever he'd been drinking. He grabbed her other hand and held it against her pounding chest. "No." 

"I have done nothing -" 

"You have done nothing but flaunt yourself all over Atlantis," he spat out, interrupting her. He stepped even closer, pressing his body up against hers, grinding his erection into her hip, sliding a hand against her breast. He buried his head in her neck, whispered in her ear. "Not fair. Sheppard gets a piece of alien ass, and you don't give anyone else the time of day." 

Bates was larger and stronger, but he was drunk; she had balance, and skill, and the knowledge of how to use an opponent's size and strength against him. It took only a moment to break his hold, to duck under his arm and pivot both of them so that she was the one holding _him_ to the wall. "Major Sheppard is a friend," she ground out. "You presume far too much." 

"Bitch," he muttered, but she noticed that he was shrinking into the wall, backing away as much as he could. Quite a change from the heavy-handed way he'd been touching her earlier. She supposed the difference was that before _he_ had been touching _her_ , whereas now _she_ was touching _him_. And that gave her an idea. 

"You're a bitch," he said, eyes narrowing with suspicion. Abruptly he shifted left, trying to break her hold, but she saw the minute tensing in his shoulder an instant before he moved, and she was ready for it. "Let me go." 

"I only want to give you what you want," she said smoothly. "What we both want. You are an attractive man, Sergeant Bates." She held his eyes for a moment longer, then stepped back. 

When he went for the gun at his side she kicked it out of his hand; the next thing he would try would be the radio, she knew, so she yanked it from his head and sent it spinning down the hallway after the gun. Evading his lunge, she side-stepped and hooked a leg behind his knee. At the same time she brought her joined fists down on the side of his neck, just hard enough to knock him off balance. Perhaps if he had not been drinking it would not have worked, but he fell heavily to the floor and she pinned him there. 

"Don't move," she said, as she reached down to unfasten his pants. For a moment he lay stunned and slack under her; then his whole body flexed, and he threw her off. She'd been expecting that, eventually, and she landed in a crouch next to the corridor wall. 

"Are you insane?" he hissed at her. "Anyone could walk by -" 

She laughed, cutting off his speech. It was late evening, and this was not a heavily-traveled corridor; the slight risk of a passer-by would simply be an added thrill. For her, at least. She shrugged. "If that is what you are worried about, behind you is the door to an empty room. Or are you all growl and no claws?" 

"I'll show you claws," he said, pulling himself to his feet. One hand stabbed out at the door control panel. His eyes cut left down the corridor, toward where his gun and headset lay. She shook her head. 

"No." 

"So you have an advantage." 

She considered a moment, then nodded. "Very well." She tossed her own gun and headset after his with an easy motion. It was not mere bravado; hand to hand, she was confident she could take him even if he resisted. And she didn't think he'd resist. 

When the door slid shut behind them, he turned to grab her. She whirled to the side, and he lunged again; stepping quickly into the circle of his arms, she took hold of his head, bringing his face to hers. 

It was a hard, brutal kiss. Their tongues fought for dominance, their hands grasped and pulled and scratched down each other's clothes and hair and skin, low grunts and gasps coming from both throats. Teyla felt the tickling of desire along her spine, the newly-awakened ache of need. Not for this man in particular, no, but he was here and he would do. 

She tore at his clothing, and he tore at hers. It was not necessary to undress completely; a button here, a lacing there, and enough of their bodies was soon exposed. His skin was smooth, his muscles hard under her questing hands, and she threw her head back as his mouth, hot and hungry, found her bare breast. Entwined, they sank together to the floor. 

He rolled on top of her, and she felt a sudden upsurge of adrenaline at the weight of his body, of his erection hard against her leg. His hands came to either side of her head, to pull her close in another ungentle kiss. "Bitch," he murmured against her lips, but the tone made it almost an endearment, and she relaxed again. 

"If that is what I am," she said, baring her teeth in a sudden smile that made him draw back, "I will endeavor to live up to the title." A quick wriggle of her hips sent his weight tilting to the side, and she rolled to hold him there, one knee on each side of his body. She could feel his rib cage moving with his breath, fast and shallow against her inner thighs. Arousal, excitement, fear. Her own fear spiked briefly as he grabbed her wrists, but she fought it down and simply raised an eyebrow: "Do you not want me to touch you?" 

He gave a harsh bark that might have been a laugh, and slid her hand, still covered in his larger one, down his torso to where his trousers gapped open. "Touch me," he said thickly, and she closed her fingers around him. 

Hot and hard, he thrust back up into her hand; she gave him two firm strokes before she shook free. "I get no pleasure from touching you with only my hand," she said, shifting forward on her knees until she straddled him, and gasping, he guided himself into her. She slowly lowered herself down his shaft, rocking slightly, feeling the delicious pressure. 

"Yeah, that's it," he groaned. "God, yeah." 

She rolled her eyes. "As though I do this for _you_." 

Laughing, he brought his fingers to her clit. "Should have known you wouldn't be satisfied easily." 

"And you think you can satisfy me?" 

In answer he slid his fingers wetly against her body, the flat pads of his fingertips rubbing in delicate circles. With his other hand he clasped her hip and pulled her down, a soft slide that wrenched a reluctant moan from her throat. She canted her hips and began to move up and down, first slowly, then in a fast rhythm - a counterpoint of in and out that matched the sideways motion of his fingers. She concentrated on the friction of his cock inside her, thick and hard; on the flat blunt pressure of his fingers, the build of sensation, the tightness around her heart as the individual threads of feeling wove themselves together, gathering strength, lifting into orgasm and gentle release. 

She had only closed her eyes, opened her lips, exhaled the breath that she had been holding, but he must have felt her shudder, because his fingers left her clit and moved to grasp her about the hips more firmly. When she opened her eyes, she saw he was staring with great hunger at her. As though her orgasm had whetted his appetite for his own, she thought; smiling down at him, she began to move faster. 

Up and down she slid, squeezing his cock with a deliberate tensing of her muscles, and she watched, gratified, as his breath caught and he licked at his lips. As he muttered, "Fuck, yeah," and closed his eyes, and his face contorted, she leaned forward. 

"What power you give me," she whispered. "Look what I have done to you." His eyes fluttered open, and he gasped, but he was too lost in his own headlong rush to orgasm to respond, and she smoothly lifted herself from his body as he began to spurt into the air. 

At that he made an inarticulate howl and grabbed at his cock, but her hand was already there, squeezing him, pulling the last of it from him. 

"Bitch," he muttered as he slumped his shoulders back against the floor. 

She wiped her hand on his trousers and gave him a look of wide-eyed innocence. "You would not wish me to become pregnant, would you?" It was not at all the truth; Dr. Beckett gave her regular injections against such an occurrence, and Bates doubtless knew this. 

Bates sat up and began to clean the wreckage of his uniform. "What a fucking mess." Glancing up at her from under his brow, he frowned. "You did that on purpose." 

She shrugged and ripped a panel from her skirt. "Here. You had already torn it partway off. I will make another." 

He snatched it from her, glowering, and dabbed at the semen on his clothing. "Yeah, you fix it. Next time I see it, I'll rip it off you again." 

"You may try," she told him gravely, and turned to leave. 

"Count on it," he called after her, and she shut the door behind her. Her heart was still pounding with the exhilaration of sex, and she forced herself to walk slowly down the hall to where her headset and weapon lay. She'd have to tread softly for a few days or a week, until his anger settled. Perhaps he'd come looking for her again. 

Perhaps she'd let him find her.


End file.
